


This Little Light of Mine

by Suzume



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Community: fmagiftexchange, Cultural Differences, Cultural exchange, F/M, Food, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Romance, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The winter before the Promised Day, Rose prepares to celebrate the Winter Solstice with her new friends and hopes that she can make the holiday special for one of them in particular...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Little Light of Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SonjaJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/gifts).



         Liore had no shortage of unusual visitors that Fall.  Mr. Hohenheim's arrival was only a prelude to the deluge of interesting people that would soon follow- and within their number, a familiar face- Alphonse Elric.

         They would stay in Liore until they received word that the time was right to move.  That was what Winry told her.  Word of what exactly, and from who, Rose didn't ask.  Something big was going to happen- no, was already in the process of happening.  As for who might send it, Ed, maybe.

         "But we'll do our best not to impose upon you.  We'll be able to cover all the necessary expenses."

         It was hard to imagine them as an imposition.  Though the rebuilding that consumed Liore fostered a general sense of camaraderie, more specific companionship only lingered around the perimeters of Rose's life.  She had no living family.  She was all too ready to make some friends.

         Although Rose's apartment didn't have the space to house all of Al and Winry's companions, the men settled easily into the nearby workers' barracks.  They came by frequently, and she considered all of them her guests, getting to know them a little bit at a time.

         Al and Winry were easy, of course, so friendly and not entirely unfamiliar to her.  Mr. Hohenheim and Dr. Marcoh both held hidden depths that…well, considering the mysterious things Mr. Hohenheim had gotten up to in Liore and the state of Dr. Marcoh's face, she wasn't sure she needed to press them about (what was it with alchemists and their secrets?).

         Jerso and Zampano, once their soft spots were exposed- they didn't have pictures (too risky, they said), but they told stories of wives and children who knew nothing of the experimental fusions that had altered their lives- were hardworking and mild-mannered enough.  Yoki was strange and fussy, but some kindness was all it took to win him over (followed by setting some firm ground rules to keep him from pushing his luck).

         The hardest to crack was the Ishvalan man with the face from the newspapers.  Yes, Winry had told her, that was him.  The man who had been killing State Alchemists traveled now with several independent ones.

         It wasn't his name, but they called him Scar.  He was statuesque and strong and he kept his own counsel.  Rose had never been personally acquainted with any Ishvalans before (Letoism had hardly proved a magnet for them).  She knew little more of his people than of Scar specifically, but from her kitchen window she could look down into a small public square between the buildings and in the early morning, while her teakettle boiled, she could watch as Scar stretched and moved through a sees of slow exercises.  It was a spiritual discipline as much as a physical one, she guessed.  An element of some martial art.  He was graceful.

         When the kettle whistled, she would snap back to work.  She wasn't quite sure what answer she could give if Winry caught her spying casually (She hadn't worked at it!  He was just there!) like this.  Winry's relationship with Scar was clearly complicated.  The same went for Scar and Dr. Marcoh.  Despite this, or possibly because of it, they seemed to know the most about him.

         Dr. Marcoh also knew some things about Ishvalan culture in general.  Every so often he would give this away in an unexamined comment, but would act embarrassed if asked much further about it.  "It's not my place to say," he apologized.  After that, his eyes would inevitably dart over to Scar, were he within sight.

         "This isn't like your alchemy research," Scar spoke up after one such exchange about three weeks into their stay.  "Knowledge is a gift, meant to be shared."

         The doctor kept on smiling nervously.  Rose was unsure whether Scar had addressed him as a chastisement or encouragement.  The look he gave Dr. Marcoh was not easily read.  The look he gave her was clear, but subtle.  "I'm interested," was how she interpreted it, "In why you're interested in me."

         With so many little tasks filling her time, Rose had failed to notice until that moment that Scar had been paying special attention to her as well.

 

 

         The coming Winter Solstice became the topic of much easy bonding within their tiny community.  Rose brought out her mother's old pinecones from up north to coat with peanut butter and dip in birdseed.  She didn't have a yard of her own, but none of her neighbors were bothered if she put them up on the bare tree in the plaza.  The birds they gathered would bring a sprinkling of music and color to the cold emptiness of the coming season.

         On the morning before the holiday, Rose baked a white Yule cake together with Winry.  Dr. Marcoh volunteered to decorate it with tiny sugar statues he formed the cubes in her cupboard.  "They say alchemy began in the kitchen," he responded modestly to the many exclamations over his delicate transmutation work.  He had never demonstrated this skill before, but Al remembered how his notes had been disguised as recipes, and Rose had seen how he had watched her in the kitchen so many days before.

         Al and Winry laughed over the directions they imagined Ed would take such decorations.

         "I can just picture our- a- _a_ wedding cake sporting frosted horns and skulls just because he thought that was fanciest."

         Scar snorted and left the kitchen.

         "Is something wrong?" Rose worried.  Scar was something of an ascetic.  Did he not approve of Yule cake?

         "Oh, no, I'm sure it's nothing to worry over," Dr. Marcoh insisted. 

        "He's fasting in preparation for the holiday.  I'm sure the cake was just too enticing.  I was surprised he stuck around as long as he did in the first place, but I think he secretly enjoys seeing you two young ladies so happy."

         "I think it's weird," Winry noted, "But he's probably right."

         Al looked up from the notes he had been making about Marcoh's frosting technique and rested his pencil on the table.  "He likes Rose, Winry." 

         "Y-you think?"

         "I think I've seen enough to be perceptive about this sort of thing," Al replied, sounding both grownup and sly.

         "I like him too," Rose said, completely calm, though she feared her face was coloring slightly.  She assumed they would understand the tenor of this confession.

         Al giggled, his tone light and young again.  Winry's tight smile seemed somewhat conflicted.  For his part, Dr. Marcoh beamed like a proud father and Rose found that more embarrassing than any other element of it.  He was probably already wondering if she had someone to give her away at the wedding, the old romantic.

         Outside came a crash, followed by Yoki's distinctive yelp.  "I- I better go check on him, Rose said, already on her way out the door.

         "I think it's good for Scar to have something else to think about coming back to," Al said.

         "I think it's nice for Rose to have maybe found someone special to her again.  But that doesn't mean I automatically stop feeling weird about it," Winry sighed and folded her arms.

         "That's only natural," Marcoh agreed.  "We all have to take these things one step at a time."

 

 

         Yoki had fortunately broken neither his neck nor the ladder, but both were sprawled out in a heap when Rose found them.  One of the pinecone bird feeders was sticking to his forehead.

         Jerso and Zampano didn't appear too concerned about him.  "We were almost finished hanging these up, but he's such a little guy and he leaned out way too far," they explained.  "…And he was actually pulling his weight this time.  It's kind of a shame."

         "Hard work just doesn't pay," Yoki groaned.

         It was difficult to know what sort of comforting words to offer in response to that.  Rose helped Yoki to stand up, look himself over, and brush his dusty clothes off.  "Did Scar come through here a minute ago?" she asked conversationally.

         "Yeah, right back to the barracks," Jerso said.  "He looked a little flustered."

         "He was probably headed off to meditate.  I'm not sure if he prays, but he does do a lot of that."

         "Oh, I see," Rose nodded.  She paid only cursory attention to Yoki as he hurled the pinecone that had caused him so much trouble to the uneven cobblestones.  "Has he talked to either of you about Yule?"

         The ex-military men looked at one another.  "No, I don't think so.  …Only to say that he liked the stuff you were putting up to feed the birds."  Zampano took his glasses off and wiped the lenses.  "I don't know what Ishvalans do for the Winter Solstice.  With an earth god and all, I'm sure they do something though."

 

 

         Aside from Scar himself, Rose guessed that Mr. Hohenheim and Dr. Marcoh would be most likely to know about it.  She felt she'd rather not inquire in front of Winry though.  It wasn't long before they were split between separate tasks, Winry and Al joining her boss at the soup kitchen counter, and Rose with Dr. Marcoh tackling the volunteer washing.

         "Do you know how Ishvalans celebrate the solstice?"

         "I can't say I know all the details, but after fasting today, there would be a lot of good food made by and shared among the family, which isn't too far from what we already plan on doing, along with prayer and storytelling," Dr. Marcoh said over the stacks of laundry from the workers' barracks they were creating on the table between them as they folded.

         "Somehow I think you might know more details about the food than you're letting one, especially if there are sweets," Rose quipped back.

         "I might," he admitted.

         She sighed, "If only I had asked you sooner…  But there's still time to whip up something Ishvalan to raise Scar's spirits if the ingredients aren't too exotic, as along as you happen to know any recipes."

         "I haven't committed any exact measurements to memory, but with your ingenuity, I think we can team up to make something nice.  If it's coming from you, I know Scar will appreciate it."

         Rose looked down and counted on the hills of sheets to hide her blushing.  "H-how do you know that?  Has he said something to you about me?"

         "Hospitality is considered a major virtue in Ishvalan culture.  The attention you've paid to all of us, and Scar in particular, hasn't gone unnoticed.  Also," the doctor chuckled, "He won't say it in these words, but he thinks you're very pretty."

         "O-oh," she smiled, squeezing the fabric between her fingers.  "I can't say I know him as well as I'd like to, seeing as he spends a lot of time out working at the construction sites and he's fairly stoic even aside from that, but, as I said…  I am fond of him too."

         "You make a nice pair," he said.

         All of this was worth several minutes of work in blissful silence before Marcoh resumed his remarks on Ishvalan celebrations of the solstice.  "What's most significant are the lamps."

         "Lamps?"

         "Ceremonial oil lamps.  They're passed down through families- via the women mostly- and treasured."

         "Then they're something a family might take with them if they had to…flee from their home, wouldn't they?" she asked quietly.

         "I imagine.  But such a thing would likely have been in the hands of Scar's late mother.  The notes his brother left him were the only thing he took out of Ishval.  If there had been anything else, Mei- our previous traveling companion- and I would have seen it with them."

         The majority of these lamps had probably been destroyed in the war then.  Those that remained were in the hands of refugee families or…well, Rose had seen Ishvalan items gathering dust in the back of the antique shop before.  A spark of hope flickered to light within her.  "You would know one if you saw it."

         "I daresay you would too.  They're often decorated with passages of scripture in Ishvalan calligraphy."

         "Then make a list of the things we're going to need for our cooking.  As soon as we finish with the laundry, it's time for some last-minute shopping, Doctor."

 

        

         Some of the dishes would be too difficult to undertake without proper instructions and a minimal amount of time for practice, so as Rose and Dr. Marcoh surveyed what was available in the market, they made up plans at they went.

         Pomegranates were seasonal and attractive and fine to eat as they were, so they were an easy decision.  Chickpeas and hulled sesame seeds were both available with a bit more searching.  The more basic ingredients for hummus- the olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and, of course, salt, were already on hand in Rose's kitchen, the best-stocked it had been since before the riots.  They would have to forgo an Ishvalan type of flatbread for a more mundane loaf of the usual sort around Liore, but Rose managed to at least get her hands on one of the freshest loaves left at her favorite bakery.

         The town was bustling with last-minute afternoon activity before shops closed down in preparation for the holiday.  For the most part, their paths were separate from those of their friends, although Rose did catch sight of Winry through a large shop window looking at a display of scarves.

         Then, outside the antique shop, they acquired a third member in their semi-secret holiday plans.  "Did something catch your eye, Mr. Hohenheim?" Rose asked, approaching curiously to see what he was looking at through the streaky glass.

         Directly in front of him was a display of old coins.  "All the rest of those are fake," he pointed at the supposed currency of old Xerxes, "But the one on the right is real.  …It's worth much more than that."

         "Are you a numismatist?"  She had heard that Al's armor had previously belonged to his father, so she wasn't surprised that he might be attracted to other old things.

         "…Uh, not quite," he scratched the back of his head.  "Are you headed home for the evening?"

         "Actually, there's one last thing we're hoping to find here," Rose admitted.  "You can join us if you like.  The only requirement is that you need to keep it a secret from the others- especially Scar.  It's going to be a surprise."

         "You can trust me," he promised.

         "We're hoping they might have a second-hand solstice oil lamp on hand," Marcoh explained to him through the jingling of the bells on the shop door.  The old man at the counter seemed to awake from a drowse at the noise.  It was a particularly slow day in a generally slow business.

         "Should we ask the clerk?" Marcoh turned to Rose.

         "I was hoping I might find it on my own.  Let's take a look around first."  She led the way down the dim aisles, past aged hats and vases in need of a shine and a myriad of other knickknacks.  Rose and Marcoh lost Hohenheim after the second row when he grew distracted by a Xingese pyramid puzzle.

         She was starting to think she should give in and inquire when a piece of fabric, striped green and orange and black, caught her eye.  It was a unique color scheme, not one that would often be stumbled across randomly.  The item- a scarf maybe?- was wrapped around a wooden box.  She hesitated, not sure if she were allowed to open it, before choosing to proceed.  Unless it was only an empty box, how would the shop owner ever make a sale if it weren't meant to be opened by a careful customer?

         Inside was exactly what she had been hoping for.  The lamp was small enough to fit in her hand, with a small chip on the spout, but it looked authentic, glazed in green with darker, almost black, script curling around the top and the original reddish brown color of the clay left bare on the lower half.  "It's so beautiful," she whispered.   

         "Oh," Dr. Marcoh's face made it all too clear that he agreed.

         They picked Hohenheim back up on their way to the counter to pay.  He appraised the lamp with a thoughtful eye, turning it over to see the maker's mark on the base.  "This is a very old piece.  It's a known maker- not that every one of them isn't a work of art."

 

 

         For the rest of the evening, Rose tried her best to act as if nothing had changed about her solstice plans since she and her other guests/friends had last spoken.  Fortunately, the pleasant holiday atmosphere enveloping them made an extra bit of excitement seem like nothing unusual.

         Through dinner (prepared by Winry) and the rest of the evening's communal activity, she just couldn't keep a smile off her face.

 

 

         After their group had dispersed for the evening the last rush of work began in earnest.  When Rose encouraged Winry to go to take a bath and go to bed while she remained in the kitchen with Dr. Marcoh to finish up a few last surprises, Winry expressed a degree of gentle skepticism, but agreed to turn in early without asking.  After all the crazy things that had happened this year, a good surprise would be nice for a change. 

         A few tips provided by the merchant that had sold them the chickpeas proved about equally useful as the doctor's vague memories and spirited guessing.  The hummus might not be quite authentic, but it was made with the best of intentions.  "Next time," Rose thought, "It will be better."  Even a whole year away (though there were certainly other occasions worth making hummus for), it was something she would look forward to.

         She was yawning when she and the doctor shook hands before parting for the evening.  "I'll try and make sure the two of you get your time alone," he promised.  "…Al will too.  He likes matchmaking."

         "The two of you should go into business together."

         "Well, I'm off.  It's a few hours yet, but have a very happy Yuletide!"

 

         Rose went to bed, hoping that the mismatch of traditions would suit everyone.

 

         She wondered if Scar would like the special fake holly clips she saved to wear in her hair at this time of year.

 

 

         The day began innocently enough with pancakes for breakfast with Winry.  Even if many of Liore's shops closed for the day and the official construction efforts halted, there was still ordinary work to be done.  It had been Winry's turn to make breakfast, so Rose handled the dishes.

         They went to work at the combination restaurant-soup kitchen as usual, finally gathering back at Rose's apartment when their shift had ended to share an early dinner with their circle.

         Bread and hummus, pomegranates, apple cider, chicken soup, asparagus, and Yule cake made for a rather eccentric solstice meal, but no one complained.  Scar remarked upon the "unique" taste of the hummus in a positive manner.  Yoki acted tipsy until being informed that the cider was nonalcoholic.  Hohenheim brought a spice cake with him from the bakery across town, because, on a holiday with this many hearty appetites gathered together, one cake was hardly enough.

         They had already decided that it was unnecessary for everyone to exchange gifts, considering their circumstances, but Rose's guests had chipped together as a group to purchase her several presents as a thank you for her hospitality.  It was slightly embarrassing to be the focus of such attention.  She and Winry had worked together to sew mittens and scarves for the men (including a cat-patterned scarf for Al, emphasizing the cute factor since he wouldn't need it to stave off the cold), as well as new work aprons for one another, but all the other gifts passed out here were for her- a Yule wreath for her door and two new cooking pots and a hooked rug.

         She was slightly relieved to have the focus of the group spread out again as they chatted about holidays past (Hohenheim's story about Ed's impatience when it came to opening presents was particularly endearing) and other generally optimistic things.  Even Scar spoke, though not about his past.

         Under other circumstances, Rose would have been happy for all this to go on late into the night, but as it was, her anticipation about the exchange she hoped to have alone with Scar made her anxious for everyone else to clear out a bit sooner than usual.

         When Al spoke up to announce that not only were there going to be fireworks set off outside town in about half an hour, but that he had volunteered to help with them and surprise the audience by adding a few unexpected frills to the show, Rose was relieved.  "And Yoki," Al noted, "There might be a chance you can get a drink there."

         "A little alcohol is good on a holiday," he answered eagerly.

         "It's not too cold.  The brisk air will feel nice," Dr. Marcoh encouraged the rest of them, casting a different look back at Scar, "Though no one will blame you if you'd prefer to skip the fireworks…"

         "I'll see," he allowed for the possibility.  There was an echo of bad memories in those sounds, but he was no longer as unsettled by fireworks as he had been the first time he had encountered them on his own in Amestris.

         Jerso and Zampano were easily swept up into the imminent fun and hurried out after Al.  Only Winry looked back thoughtfully as Rose hung back alongside Scar, saying there were a few things she wanted to clean up first.

 

         "Thank you for everything," he told her, when they were alone.  "The hummus; the pomegranate- those were for me, weren't they?"

         "You're welcome.  Actually, I wish I could've done more."

         "It was enough.  More than I would've ever expected.  …I suppose you want to get things back in order on your own?"  If Rose had wanted help with the stopgap tidying up, she would've asked, wouldn't she?

         "There's one last thing," Rose beckoned to Scar.  Part of her wanted to reach out and lead him along by the hand, but she wasn't sure if he would find that too forward of her.

         "Yes?"

         "Come see before you go."

         He followed her into the cramped sitting room.  She had taken out the oil lamp while the others were distracted and just lit the wick as they were on the way out the door.  Night came early on the shortest day of the year.  Rose tiptoed around the familiar layout to sit down on the couch nearest to the lamp.  Scar stayed in the doorway.  Rose looked from her guest to the lamp and then back again.  "I found this for you."

         "…Ishvala encourages us to aim to create balance in this world," Scar said, looking down at the light, small, but strong against the unlit darkness of the rest of the room.  "Even on the longest night of the year, there exists a little light."

         "Will you tell me more about this lamp?" Rose asked gently.  She didn't want to push Scar into anything he wasn't feeling up to.  If he didn't want to talk about it, maybe he would just sit beside the lamp with her.  She had never celebrated the solstice in an Ishvalan manner before, but memories were flooding back to her of drinking cider and lighting candles with her mother and father so many years ago, and opening a handful of gifts, lovingly chosen for her.

         "Yes," he agreed, "Since you want to hear.  Knowledge is also a flame, set alight in us by Ishvala.  One wick lights another and neither is diminished."

         The contrasting colors in her hair looked even more striking than usual, echoing this meeting of darkness and light.  Scar made his way around to her side.  In many years he thought he would never be reconciled with the terrible things that had befallen his people, and him personally, before, but the more he saw, the more he stumbled across Amestrians worth saving.

         Rose's right hand sat on her leg, but her left hand, nearer to him, was settled on the couch.

         Carefully, Scar put his own hand over it.  Her fingers felt pleasantly warm.

         He began to speak.

         "The story goes like this…"


End file.
